Gleaning What You Will Not See
by MyMadness
Summary: Lewis has returned from the Virgin Islands, but he hasn't left his grief behind. Laura decides he needs to rejoin life, at least a little. "Let him know women can still find him interesting and attractive, Karen." Ch. 6 The final chapter...
1. Chapter 1

_**Gleaning What You Will Not See**_

_**A/N: This is my first Lewis story. Before this I have written mostly Doctor Who and Harry Potter. I do have an Inspector Morse angsty romance that is still a work in progress posted here on fanfiction. **_

_**I have been reading Lewis fics lately and watching Lewis on DVD. This story just seemed to creep into my head as a result.**_

_**This would be fairly early in the Lewis timeline. It involves a character of my creation, a lab manager for Dr. Hobson named Karen. This is the first of, perhaps, 4 chapters.**_

/

* * *

Laura Hobson had come over to her friend's flat that night on purpose. To catch him at his most withdrawn. Robbie wasn't sleeping well, she knew. He didn't get out, other than to work. And he was eating god-knows-what. He let her in, but then rolled his eyes at the ceiling as he realized it was a lecture he had invited over his threshold.

She was prodding him now from her spot at his kitchen table, her voice low and sad. "Do you think the emulation of Morse has gone far enough?" It frightened her that Lewis' present behavior could remind her of his former boss'.

The Detective Inspector groaned, sounding more hurt and weary than angry with her.

"You are little more than a recluse now..." she told him flatly.

"Laura..." he objected, hesitantly.

But she was on a roll. She'd waited months to confront him with this. "The mood, the seclusion, the booze and ...the _**Wagner**_, for God's sake."

Now, Robbie turned bitter. Effortlessly, he channeled Morse at his worst. "Well, leave _**God**_ out of it at least."

"Oh, it's not to the same extent," she said more gently now. She edged closer physically, obviously trying to make amends. "But it's all too similar for me to sit by and watch. We all wanted better for Morse, didn't we? But we got nowhere with him."

The worst of it, for the widowed Inspector Lewis, was the sigh that followed. A woman's sigh. Heavy and hurt, signaling disappointment. It funneled through him. Fueled his self-reproach.

"I thought..." he began. "I thought I was doing the best I could... that I was doing alright - on the outside at least."

"I know," Laura echoed with her compassion fully evident now. "But I'd like to see you actually **_believe_** that there is something left for you. Something out there. And not just try to_** act**_ like you are alright."

"I'll try to do better," he promised weakly.

She squeezed his shoulder and pushed off from his kitchen chair. "Am I too rough on you?" she asked softly.

"Nah," he said with a shake of his head.

/

At her office, Laura looked up from the paper she was holding, and her eyes went unfocused, and her mind began to wander. There was just another hour until a normal quitting time, and lately that made her wonder what Robbie would do with his hours off. She blinked again and tried to finish reading the report in front of her. The bulk of the memo began to fade away and it was the opening and the final note that caught her eye now.

'To: Inspector Lewis,' it said at the top. And at the very bottom, it read, 'Prepared by: /KDG/.' "Karen," the pathologist said with a note of discovery. And she smiled her rather wicked smile then.

... ... ... ...

Karen looked over from her desk to see her boss eying the report she had just handed her. The lab manager sensed something was wrong. But she could swear there were no errors, grammatical or scientific, in her work. So, she pulled at the dark hair by her temple a tad nervously, and waited for Laura's reaction.

It was almost time to go home. There were kids, dinner, and homework for Karen to worry about. Not that she could explain any of that to Dr. Hobson. Even without a man, Karen found her life was full enough that a night re-running blood panels was not on her list of fun activities.

"Laura?" she called out finally. "I was going to head home by six, so if you hate that report, could you just tell me now?"

"No. It's fine. Perfect. I mean Lewis is going to hate it, probably. It could muck up his murder," Dr. Hobson added with that girlish twitch of her lips that she was prone to. "But then..."

Laura considered the woman afresh. She had hired Karen because she was bright, willing to work any shift, and had a no nonsense air about her. But there was a lot more to her.

Her assistant was a bit younger than herself. What had she said when she had whined over the new glasses? That 44 was too young to be wearing reading specs? Oh, Karen looked a tad put out at present with the spooky way Laura was acting, but the woman was a fun type at the right times.

She was taller and athletic in that willowy way that Laura used to resent. Very charming when business was not at hand. A comfortable sort... perfect for Robbie as a sort of ... warm up. And Robbie would be excellent practice for Karen.

The good inspector's male ego could use a little flattery, Dr. Hobson quickly decided. Laura would not go so far as to match make, but she did think Lewis could use some female attention, and that Karen Gowers could benefit from the activity.

Perhaps Dr. Hobson didn't broach the topic fluidly, because Ms. Gowers laughed uncomfortably and sunk back against the edge of the desk after Laura made her suggestion. "You want me to _**flirt**_ with him... as part of presenting medical evidence? Flirt? With a DI?"

"DIs are a lot like people, actually," Laura insisted with a smile and a dose of sarcasm.

"I've never known one with much of a sense of humor," the younger woman countered.

"Oh, you might be catching them at a bad time, say when they want their 12 hour panels back in 6..." Laura joked.

"Maybe I've been holding out for a professor or a stand up comic or something."

"You've just been holding out. Admit it," Hobson accused.

"I don't flirt. Not in 10 years have I flirted," Karen objected firmly.

"Practice seems to be in order then. There's no interest between you two. That's the best part. I'm not setting you up," Laura continued in able salesman-like fashion. "Really, Karen. You have been doing the disaffected divorcee thing for the whole time I've known you..."

"The what?" Karen fumed.

But her boss just plowed ahead.

"... and Inspector Lewis is... well, crawling into a shell as if he has no right to ever be happy again. As if there is nothing left to life. Believe me, this is perfect. And harmless. He needs the notice. Just give him a quick compliment or two. Let him know women can still find him interesting and attractive."

Considering the matter decided, Dr. Hobson abruptly headed back to her desk. She called out cheerfully over her shoulder, "Good night, Karen."

/ / / /

Laura called the inspector the following morning from work.

"_**Karen**_ will have the results?" Inspector Lewis parroted back into the phone with a bit of uncertainty.

"You must have seen Karen. She runs the lab. She's on the reports," Dr. Hobson prompted.

"Ah, she's the 'slash K D G slash.'"

"Yes, look what a great detective you are... even if you have just reduced a very nice woman to a literal footnote. The point is, _**she**_ will go over the results with you."

"You too busy for me?" Robbie teased.

"Frankly, yes. Besides... she's nice," Dr. Hobson said with emphasis.

"God, Laura," he whined.

"Just try to be polite to her. Good bye, Robbie," she told him before there could be any further complaints.

/

Lewis sounded gruff and looked decidedly impatient as he pushed through the door an hour later.

"Dr. Hobson?" he called out. Spotting her at her desk, he started in that direction.

Karen cringed as she watched her boss feign taking a phone call. The detective would figure that simple ruse out in a moment, most likely. So, to stop his progress, Karen blurted out, "I've got what you need, Inspector." She cringed harder then at the unintended double entendre. Either it had gotten a great deal warmer in the lab or she was blushing.

She must have been blushing, she realized, because Inspector Lewis had stopped looking so stern and was wearing a half-smile he could not contain. He gave up on Laura then and walked for Karen's desk. She busied herself with avoiding his eyes while she pulled out the file from a stack.

"Dr. Hobson," and here he crooked a thumb over his shoulder in a masculine gesture Karen found reassuringly informal, "told me there was something I needed to see, specifically."

Karen stood up. She was convinced she had no ability to flirt or even 'make eyes' at a man, and she certainly could not even attempt those things if forced to crane her neck up at this fellow.

"I'm glad you didn't mind coming down." She paused and looked for some other way to make him know that he mattered, that being the closest thing to flattery she could think of. "I wanted to bring it by to you," she whispered. She smiled then because now she could get even with her boss, too. "But Laura has me minding gels that need 30 minute checks."

"Oi, she's a hard one," Lewis whispered back. He cleared his throat then as if he needed to consciously regain his inspector's aspect.

Karen ventured a raised eyebrow at the dig he had taken at his friend and then launched straight into business. "We felt it would be best if we could go over these results in person. There are agents in the blood that act a bit strangely. If you have the time?" She tried another smile and looked at him expectantly. "I've got 22 minutes before I need to look at those pesky gels," she said then.

His manner changed at hearing that. He looked at her with a sort of friendly sympathy. She sensed he had a soft spot for the poor soul that had a task master for a boss.

"Ok. Let's do it," he conceded with a nod.

Karen grabbed a small bucket of markers and led him to the glass walled meeting room.

It didn't take long to point out the odd behavior of the agents that had been found in the victim's blood. Karen waited for the moment she knew his eyebrows would rise in surprise, that point when he processed the news that none of those agents should have killed their victim.

"So this tells us something else was present maybe, something you can't test for?"

"Exactly," the woman told him, and she rewarded him with an enthusiastic smile. "I've got a short list here of things with nearly unpronouncible names that might

be the culprit."

"Just in case I come across a tub somewhere that's conveniently labeled?" he joked.

"Not the sort of help you were hoping for. I know," she said quietly. "Not that you need lots of help," she back peddaled out of concern for his ego.

She was no good at this. That was the thought that thudded through her brain at that moment.

Karen shot a nervous look out to where her boss sat, and the inspector caught her at it.

Lewis groaned without thinking. He was getting an uneasy feeling about this all-too-easy conversation. "Tell me now if this is some sort of a set up," he insisted sounding embarrassed.

Finding herself caught out, it was Karen's turn to groan. "See how clever you are?" she tried to tease. But she became serious then. "I am going to level with you because _**I've**_ been as set up as you have. I told that woman, I don't flirt."

"She decided I needed you to flirt with me!" He sounded incredulous.

"Try not to make that sound like a case of small pox, and together we can exact a fitting revenge," Karen said with a light dosing of spite.

His 'sorry' was accompanied by an ashamed wince.

"Completely understandable," she told him, "but do play your part, as we are on display."

Karen shuffled papers in front of her and avoided his eyes while she explained, "Laura figures you would benefit from hearing that you are attractive and generally desirable."

He shook his head and looked away briefly.

Something about his manner struck her, and she found herself saying, "I have no idea if hearing it helps or not, but it is true. You _**do **_seem to be one of those wonderfully dependable, down to earth types. And you _**are**_ attractive."

She waved off the denial she knew was coming.

"Laura has found it in her heart to help me as well, you see," Karen told him with adequate sarcasm. "She is sure that with a little practice I can learn to approach men again and all my troubles will be over. Not that I saw my life as the giant problem she perceives."

"Given that she herself is single, this is a very annoying behavior on Laura's part," he agreed.

"Perhaps we were not doing 'single' to her specifications," the lab manager suggested with a grin.

After a breath to steady himself he said, "You mentioned revenge, I believe, my good woman."

"Thank goodness you are amenable to that sort of underhanded behavior." Karen put everything back in its folder and handed it to him. "Let's walk. I'm sure you have to get back to work, and I don't want to tie you up down here." With a reflexive hand to her forehead, she was convinced her choice of words had not suffered this badly in years.

He laughed quickly, but not unkindly, at the discomfort she was causing herself.

They crossed the tile floor together, and Laura barely suppressed her surprised look when Lewis did not venture towards her desk. He merely offered up a wave and continued out the double doors with Karen toward the lift. Laura could see the pair out there, gesturing, nodding, smiling even. And she wondered how successful she should feel.

... ... ... ... ... ...

"Do you have a card?" Karen asked cautiously. "You could give me one with your home number on the back. I'd show it to Laura, and she would be a very self satisfied cat. She might leave us alone then."

"Naw. She might see through that. A phone number would be a _**big**_ step. Well, for a recluse like me." The lift ringed open, and he held the door for her. "Tell her I told you, 'I hope you are here next time I come by.' " He made the words sound carefully chosen.

"You know best."

"I don't always, obviously, or I would not have Laura so worked up over me," Robbie said a touch sadly as they moved into the empty lift.

"She cares about you is all," Karen offered gently.

"Ever since my wife died... " he began. And she let him off the hook, not making him finish his statement.

"I know. And your kids are grown and not close by. My situation's not really the same. My kids are still at home. My ex husband left us about 7 years ago," she explained softly. "My life is ... full. Just not always with the things I would _**choose**_ to put in it."

"Teacher conferences and dance lessons. The haggling over cleaning up their rooms and turning down their music?" he asked with a shy, but knowing smile.

"Oh. Exactly."

"How many kids?" he asked, easier now.

"Two. A boy and a girl," she said smiling.

"That's just like me." He had still wanted to say 'us' he admitted to himself. "How old?" he managed.

"My son is eighteen. He's looking at universities this fall. My daughter's just sixteen."

"Oh, sixteen? _**That's**_ a tough age."

"I know," she assured him genially. They were by the hospital exit now, and she didn't want to see things turn awkward after so much success. So, she backed up a step to signal that she was letting him go.

"I _**have **_liked talking to you," he offered as if it was an apology. "And I _**do **_hope you are here next time I come by."

"You can call me here...if you have any more questions on the report," she offered in halting fashion.

"Thanks, Karen."

But the man's words seemed lost and weak to the tall brunette. Karen merely nodded in return. Silently, however, she couldn't help but ache a bit for the man.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: At last! Chapter Two. I got distracted trying to finish up my Harry Potter epic and my Inspector Morse story. And then before I got back to this, I somehow spawned a Jarndyce/Esther story from Bleak House. _

_I'm glad to be back. I've missed my boy, Robbie. Such a sweet face. _

/

Lewis was back at the morgue 5 days later. This, combined with the positive things Karen had said about their last meeting, should have thrilled Laura's meddling soul. But the pathologist was feeling pushed. Her day had been ruined by 4 AM. There had been 2 bodies from a bad car wreck already and then Lewis' latest suspicious death showed up.

Before even considering how haggard the inspector looked, Laura briskly informed him she was up to her arm pits in arm pits, and that, no, his tox screen was in no way near done.

Robbie was about to return fire when he thought better of it. With a groan of frustration, he turned for the door.

Karen stole a glance and figured she could tell how long he had been on his feet, just by looking at him.

But she knew the evening's time line, as well. The suspicious death report had come in before midnight. It hadn't been Laura, but the department's other ME who had taken that call. When the car crash happened four hours later, Karen and Laura had been brought in. And oddly, the body from Lewis' crime scene was just arriving then.

It was 5:30 in the morning now, Karen noted with a look at the wall clock. No doubt the inspector had been all over the map in the meantime. He'd been out in the wet from the look of his hair and the ruddy wash across his face. She registered an empathy she couldn't stem as she watched him pinch at his brow and work for the doors.

Impulsively, Karen decided to follow him. She snapped off her gloves and backed away from a microscope in one hurried motion. She grabbed the relevant file as she walked quickly passed her desk.

Once they had both cleared the swinging doors and Laura's domain, Karen called out to him.

"Inspector? Robert," she tried next.

"You can tell Dr. Hobson, I don't need consoling. Or meddling. Or... flirting. Just answers on ..."

"Your suspicious death. I know," the lab manager assured him, firmly.

He stopped then and looked at her.

His face changed in an instant, self-reproach obvious. "I'm sorry, Karen."

"It's alright. You're wet through and tired, I'm sure. That doesn't help anyone's mood. These," she said showing him the file, "are just preliminary results. Observations from the crime scene ME and the initial autopsy."

"Dr. Hobson hates to give me the preliminary copy," he said with a raised eyebrow.

"Because it's often misleading. And likely a waste of your time. But I'm not Laura," Karen told him.

"No, you definitely are not," he replied as he reached for the folder.

"I just put coffee on over here," Karen said ignoring his outstretched hand, and indicating a little nook between offices. "Let me pour you a cup while you look at it?"

"Alright," he conceded, his mood still sounding distracted and sour. For some reason he could not fathom, she smiled at him.

When they got to the counter with the coffee service, she put down the file and then held out her hand to him. "What?" he asked feeling like he'd been caught flat footed.

"That coat. It's soaking. Take it off."

"I'm fine," he ground out.

"Grumpy! I'm not mothering you," she said with a stunning grin. "I just didn't want you to drip all over the report! Have you seen what happens when water hits that old thermal paper that comes out of my machines?"

Silently, then he consented to taking off the coat. He threw it over a chair behind him.

"God, even your suit is wet," she told him now that she had a look at him. She pulled a tea towel out of a drawer under the counter and tried to hand it to him.

"_**Now**_, you are mothering me."

"Sorry."

"S'alright. Just so we both know that I have caught you at it," he was trying to sound out of sorts, but his smile left the act unconvincing. He did take the towel then and dry off his hands and mop quickly at his neck. "Better?" he asked a tad impishly.

She froze for a second then, enjoying the way his face had lightened and his eye brows had raised playfully.

"Yes. So," she said, feeling a bit self conscious. "You'll want to know if this death seems related to the other. The markers will take time to run, I'm afraid. But to me what is striking is that there is nothing to make the deaths look different yet. Well, one seems made to look like a suicide and this one might have been made to look like an accident. The only thing we ruled out was alcohol so far. We got..."

"Up to your arm pits in arm pits quite suddenly. Yes, I know."

"It's a coarse business. I'm sorry Laura said ..."

"Don't apologize for her," Lewis insisted, seeming agitated again.

Karen steadfastly avoided his mood and tried a lighter tack, "We'll get even with her. I don't know about you, but I am feeling rather determined, actually. I made a complete fool of myself when I met with you last, and I blame her." She was blathering on now, she knew. But he had smiled encouragingly, so she found she couldn't stop. "I was rather hoping to see you again to plot our revenge." She forced herself to take a sip of her coffee and slow down. "I feel guilty now, though. I didn't mean for the fates to deliver you here like this," she said indicating the wet state of him.

He ducked his head a second, reconsidering the anger he'd felt at the way Laura had handled his appearance. It didn't seem to matter any more really.

"You've been a big help tonight. I really appreciate it," Lewis told her as he looked back up at her. He took some solace in hiding behind his coffee then, as well.

"You look like it's been a rough night," she ventured softly.

"Fairly horrid, yes." Normally he would have stopped there. But something about this woman, about her open expression, and the easy way she listened, compelled him to offer up more. "Frankly, I'm beat. It took forever to get the body extracted from where we found it and get it here." He dragged a hand through his wet hair. "The crime scene is nothing short of a marsh. At the bottom of a ruddy hill. And I have to worry that the same person is responsible for two murders now... and that I don't know who it is."

"You'll figure it out. I hear you are an awfully smart man," she said with a gentle smile.

"Mother, lab manager, and cheer leader, all in one?" he taunted as he drained his coffee.

"And partner in revenge, don't forget." She wondered what to do next... how to actually connect with him beyond these bland, superficial pleasantries. And she wondered where this compulsion to get to know this man suddenly came from. "You can call me, if plotting against Laura would make for a good distraction," she heard herself say. She reached into her scrubs and fumbled with a small notebook. Her nerves were making things difficult suddenly. She wrote out her number for him as neatly as her traitorous hands would allow. "This is not a pick up line. And this isn't an assignment from Laura. I swear. Because I'm gonna tell her to pack in all that advice. I think I'll tell her you broke my heart already. That should throw her." She put the number down on top of the report cover.

He was speechless suddenly. It wasn't that no woman had approached him since Val had died. It was that this did not seem at all like the empty sort of attention the other women had offered up in the hopes of a bit of company.

He wondered what it meant, and he decided to test it. He stood and shook out his coat before putting it on. He tried to make his words sound casual then. "Your phone must be ringing off the hook if you give every sour policeman you meet your number with the offer of talking."

She shrugged a tad uncomfortably. "I don't give it out, really," she said standing now, too.

He nodded in reply, and they both backed away to head in their separate directions.

/ / / / / / /

Once outside, Lewis pulled open the car door and slid in next to Hathaway. He shook the rain off the report cover and then pulled Karen's number out from under his thumb. He carefully tucked it inside his wallet.

"Something you don't want to lose, sir?" the detective sergeant asked as he nodded toward where the older man had stashed the note.

"A lovely woman just gave me her phone number. Perhaps going about wet and looking like hell had to pay off at some point. Some maternal instinct gets triggered."

"An older woman then, sir?"

"No, younger. Well, than me. And lovely."

"You've said 'lovely' twice now," his sergeant reminded him, a tad cheekily.

"Just drive the car, man," Lewis complained.

Hathaway considered the faraway look on his boss' face and then finally put the car into drive. The younger man shook his head. "You managed a telephone number on your way to a _**morgue**_? In the middle of the night? It doesn't seem... well, fair."

"What has fair ever had to do with women? Just because _**you**_ have no luck ..." Robbie said, trying to rise to the conversation. He did his best then to look smug, but he felt more confused than anything else. He pointed at the wind screen. "Back to the station, Sergeant."

/ / /


	3. Chapter 3

Lewis had a question on the final lab report. He brought it by in the afternoon, after he'd given up on deciphering it.

He saw Karen with her brown hair mostly in its pony tail. Her glasses on her head. She was standing over the lab's centrifuge, intently watching it spin. And pouting. He groaned to himself when he realized he was staring. He'd gotten fixated on the fullness to her lip, or the way her long slender fingers now pulled her glasses from her head and set wisps of her hair free.

When had he started finding anything involving the wearing of reading glasses worth this sort of attention, he had to wonder.

It was endearing. It wasn't that take-me-to-bed sort of pull. It was that comfortable attraction that roils a slow burn. It and Karen had crept up on him, perhaps. Not that he would do anything about it, he knew. It was more the sort of information he would merely catalogue and move on from. Life had left him with that sort of detachment and defense.

Part of him badly wanted to talk with her. That man he'd hidden somewhere hoped she would tell him she had just put on coffee, and that she had time to chat for a second. It was something he would never work to make happen. He'd become an incredibly passive creature where these things were concerned. Passive and evasive. And nearly neutered, he decided with self derision.

"Problem?" Laura asked, as she snuck up behind him.

"Oh, definitely. Yes. Sorry," Lewis mumbled as Laura smiled. "These numbers. Second page. Third column. You didn't run that test on the first victim. Why?"

"Oh, you are in dull boy mode today." But she followed his eyes as she said it. Saw that he had gone from staring at Karen to looking at his shoes. "She said you were cute, by the way. I _**think**_ there's a chance she might go to the dance with you, if you asked her," Laura teased in imitation of a vapid, teenage girl.

Lewis gave his friend the requisite eye roll in reply to her comments. "Numbers, woman? What does it mean?"

"The markers were different."

"So different murderer?" Robbie asked.

"I'm fairly certain that's _**your**_ job." She turned then. "Karen!" she called. "Look who's here."

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

That phone number was plaguing him. He had pinned it to his cork board in the kitchen over a week ago. Now, he stared at it every morning while he stood with his coffee. But he did nothing with it. He neither called her, nor put the number in the trash.

This whole daily ritual was a fitting metaphor for his life, he decided in Morse-like fashion. He indulged it like a weather vane of how ineffectual he had gone.

Robbie finally called Karen a week later, "I thought I'd tell you that we wound up that case." It was a lame excuse to call, he knew. Karen would certainly hear the same news through Laura.

"Oh, nicely done, Robbie. That has to be a relief." He felt himself smile sheepishly. Having his own personal 'cheerleader,' as he had called her at least once before, was entirely too good for his ego.

"Well, I wanted to call to explain that it doesn't mean anything negative that I haven't called _**earlier**_. Um, does that make any sense?" he wondered in a pained-sounding voice.

They both laughed over his unease then.

"I won't tell her you called," she assured him, meaning her meddling boss.

"No. Do. Laura's convinced I'm somehow her problem. If she thinks I've suddenly got a social life and someone to talk to, she'll stop worrying. Well, and stop nagging, too."

"She's the same with me. Convinced I'm drowning somehow in my obligations and not doing anything for myself."

"You can't explain that that is the general job description of motherhood, I suppose," Robbie said with a knowing laugh.

"She doesn't understand."

"No."

_But you do_, Karen thought.

"Do you hear from your kids often?" she ventured.

"Oh, my daughter's good. Called us every Sunday when she was at university. But well, now... there's the job and the boy friend. And I hear from her a little less. My boy is not the type to call on any sort of schedule. Maybe he thinks it a tad unmanly or something. I'm lucky if he remembers birthdays and such. But he's a good lad. Just not a talker, I suppose."

"Does it get lonely?" she asked quietly. "I worry it will be, with my kids growing up."

He sat down now. He had been prepared for a nervous and perfunctory conversation, and in his unease he had made the call standing up. But he relaxed into a chair at his table now. Leaned back.

"Yeah," he admitted. "Sometimes."

/ / / /

It didn't really constitute a relationship. More of a mutual support society. One or the other would call on Friday nights. They would chat about their weeks and resolutely tell the other that they had nothing planned for the weekend that Laura would possibly approve of, and that they didn't care.

He called out of turn one Saturday. From the start, he seemed a tad riled, she noted. There were no pleasantries before he announced, "Laura called here this afternoon and wanted to know what I was doing this weekend."

"Okay?" Karen said cautiously.

"I figured it was a test, so I told her you and I were going out tonight."

Karen looked at her watch, and it was already 9 pm. "So you lied to her? Or... we are going out?"

"I suppose, I lied," he told her. Karen could hear the guilt in his voice.

"So where did we go ?" she asked matter-of-factly.

"The movies?"

"Did we have a good time?" she joked.

"I don't know," came his shy admission.

"Okay. Let's figure this out. You'd better decide what movie we saw and where we went to eat."

"Eat?"

"If this imaginary outing had been a date, there likely would have been food involved."

"Oh, God." he said, sounding like this was entirely more work than he could manage. "If we are only doing this to get even with Laura's meddling, why does it need to be so complicated?"

"I know. I'm thinking the same thing. So... tell her we went to that old art house cinema. The Palace, it's called. And that we saw that Werner Herzog movie they re-released. Tell her it was awful. I saw it years ago, and it is quite exceptionally horrid."

She heard a clunk in the back ground.

"I am saving you in your lie, and I do not even have your full attention?" she complained. "What are you doing right now? I want a full confession."

"Sorry. It's all this lying. I think it made me too nervous to sit still. So, I was getting ready to iron. I dropped the damn thing. So I've been punished, have no fear." He groaned then as if thoroughly ashamed. "What are you doing?"

"Staring at a sink full of dishes," she sighed.

"Are we boring?" he asked with a knowing laugh.

"We are as bad as Laura suggested, perhaps. So... Next time maybe we should avoid the lies and the phone call over domestic chores and just go out? It would be less work."

She waited, thinking he would ask her out for the following weekend, but he didn't take the hint. In her kitchen, she ducked her head and rubbed at it fiercely. It suddenly felt as if she was throwing herself at him and being quite effectively rebuffed. She was happy he at least could not see her embarrassment.

"Good luck with Laura tomorrow," he said instead. "You'll wind her up good for me? Tell her it was a disaster or something?"

"I'll tell her all you talked about was your iron. That you didn't even pay attention to me." She was only half joking, she realized.

"Thanks. And Karen? Next time. Well. I'll come up with a better plan."

She doubted that.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

"I don't suppose you like carnivals?" Karen suddenly asked at the end of a regular call. She must have some sort of masochistic streak to ask, she figured. But she wondered if she would have better luck now that she was doing the asking, and he did not have to make the effort to figure out what they might do together.

The silence was awful and Karen decided to just plow forward.

"My daughter, Lizzie, is meeting some new boy at the carnival that's in town tomorrow. I'm taking her there and then lurking about to keep an eye on them. And I'll drive her home later. I'm a tad over protective perhaps..."

"No, that's smart thinking," he managed.

"Well, wandering the carnival for 2 hours by myself seems like horrible punishment for being a good parent. I was wondering if you'd go with me? Keep me company?"

"Saturday night?" he asked as if he needed to check his calendar for anything that could possibly interfere.

"Yes." She held her breath and waited for the excuse.

"Yes, I could do that," he managed in a voice that seem less than sure. "I think I could leave the ironing behind and actually interact with people other than policemen."

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Karen watched her daughter bound into the house after their night out at the carnival. Once she and Robert were alone in her driveway, she turned to him to smile.

"Thank you," she told him as they walked toward his car.

"Ah, really, it was nothing," he said with his characteristic shrug.

"But I would say it worked..." she told him gently.

He looked confused.

"Me. You. Being out," she continued. "Nothing complicated. No expectations. Maybe, sometimes, it's better than being alone?" she wondered, cautiously.

"Yeah. Sure. I mean, of course." Feeling stupid and flustered, he had stopped there half way to his car. He jammed his hands in his pockets and looked up at the dark sky.

"So, if you find yourself in the same predicament," she said, carefully, "if you get that invitation that says 'plus one' or if there is some place you don't want to go on your own, I would most definitely return the favor."

With him still looking awkwardly away, she kissed his cheek.

"Nothing complicated," she assured him again.

/ / / /

A week later he realized there _**was**_ that movie he had really wanted to see but didn't want to see alone. He didn't object when she walked next to him with her arm through his. But he never put his arm around her, she noticed. And trying to hold his hand would have felt out of bounds, she sadly realized.

Still, she started inviting him over for for a meal when her kids were scheduled to be out and she wanted company.

When he saw her kids at the house, she was amazed at how well he did with them. He teased Tim about the football club he supported. But, he was reserved with Lizzie, showing that he understood that teenage girls prefer to be pretty much invisible to middle aged men.

Later, when Karen was alone with him, she tried to offer up a compliment. His manner, though, became so horribly defensive.

But she didn't back away. She took his face gently in her hands, "You deserve to know that you are good at this. At understanding people. At being a part of other people's lives. Even teenagers. I just thought it would help to hear from a fellow parent that you strike me as the best of men."

"Go team?" he finally said, a tad too sarcastically. "Ever my cheerleader?"

"Oh, sod it!" she said sounding suddenly angry. "Go on," she said, and she handed him his wind breaker.

"Karen?" he tried.

"Oh, just go, Robbie. I guess I'm not in the mood to be teased tonight, is all. I'm not in the mood to watch you beat yourself up anymore, either."

He was only more silent then. There seemed to be a world of worry behind his eyes. But she steered him for the door anyway. He moved sluggishly as she spun him and pushed at his back. Once he hit the porch, he turned and looked at her seeming confused.

"You make me insane," she told him calmly. "I mean that in the best possible light. But good night."

She gave him no time for reply. God, knows she didn't think he had it in him to make any sense any time quickly tonight anyway. She shut the door and then turned to lean against it.

His cheerleading comment had been reflexive, not meanly meant, she was sure. He said it because she made him uncomfortable. And he was uncomfortable because as often as she told him that she had no agenda, he feared she did.

Hell, **_she_** was starting to worry that she did.

Still, on a policeman's list of fears, how could a woman's interest really take top billing? She didn't know, but evidently, it had.

...


	4. Chapter 4

Lewis had absolutely no business in the lab. No results were pending. There was no autopsy to quiz someone over. And still, there he was. He just couldn't stand the notion that they were fighting.

"We aren't fighting," Karen explained at a whisper after hearing his assessment of things. "You got a little pouty. I was being oversensitive. I handed you your coat. That's all. Let's just chalk it up to PMS, on your part, at least, and be done."

Sometimes she talked so fast, he couldn't process much of what she said. Sometimes, like now, and that half missed comment on PMS, he thought that was probably for the best.

"Friends then?" he summed up still sounding confused.

"Oh, Lord, Robbie," Karen said with a grin. _You are adorable_, she thought. "I'll get you coffee, and we can make up properly."

...

Laura, her mood too light, came over to Karen's desk later that day.

"I feel like I should congratulate myself when I see the two of you together," the ME said.

Karen only shook her head at first. "It's not a game, Laura. And Robbie and I are two real, very broken people. I don't know that you'll understand that even when things go bad, and we both end up worse off than we were."

"Things don't have to go badly," Laura chided, gently.

"No, that don't have to. But from where the two of us sit, they do too often."

...

It was the weekend and they had just spoken the night before, so the inspector was a bit surprised to have Karen call. Especially given the late hour.

"Robbie? I'm sorry to bother you..." Immediately, he could hear something in the edge to her voice, even over the phone. Even through his sleep addled brain.

He stood now next to the couch where he had dozed off. Adrenaline was starting in him instinctively. "She should have been home by now," Karen was telling him.

"Lizzie, you mean?"

"Yes. Sorry. She has me frazzled."

"I'm sure she's fine," Lewis said as calmly as he could. "But I'll come over. If she isn't there by the time I am, we'll call around."

And Karen knew what he meant. He would call the hospitals, the lock ups. She shivered.

...

"I'm sorry," she apologized again as she held the door of her house open for him.

"Don't be," he told her, firmly. "I know it's frightening." And when she wrapped her arms around him, he returned the hug. He let his lips settle in her hair. He felt good that there was something he could do for her.

"She's out with someone?" he asked while still holding her.

"Oliver," Karen supplied. "That boy from the carnival. I called, and his parents haven't heard anything, either. She'll tell me I need to get her a cell phone," Karen tried to joke.

Lewis gently released her. And then looked quickly around, expecting to see her son. "Where's Tim?"

"He's over at a friend's for the night. I called him. He hasn't heard from Lizzie. He's a good kid. He offered to go out and look for her. But I told him, I don't need the two of them out there at night."

Robbie nodded and smiled. He stroked her arm then and told her softly, "Let's put on tea while we talk and we'll make a plan."

"I can make my own tea," she complained weakly. But he had beaten her to the kettle.

"Let me," he said, and he gave her a thin smile meant to reassure her.

They heard a car pull up then. It clearly had hit the garbage pail that was out by the street from the sound of things. Karen started for the door, but Robbie somehow beat her to it.

The inspector was down the porch stairs two at a time and at the driver's side before the lad could react.

Karen pulled open the passenger door and said only, "In your room. Now," to her already cowed and frightened looking daughter.

Karen could hear Lizzie's date, Oliver, complaining with a drunken slur. "Oi! Give me back my keys!"

"Not likely," Lewis informed him.

The boy was angry, and he came out of the car swinging for Robbie. But the inspector was ready. He side stepped Oliver and grabbed his jacket at the shoulder then. Oliver found himself spun around and pressed up against the car bonnet.

"You are walking home," Lewis informed him, shoving him into the car one last time. "Your parents will get your keys back tomorrow."

"Alright. Alright!"

Oliver stood up as Robbie backed away. The boy jammed his hands in his pockets and moved quickly down the street.

Lewis' chest was heaving, and he was staring up at the sky now with his hands on his hips. His reaction was off, too much. And he had no doubt Karen knew it, too.

Karen felt guilty suddenly. She had dragged him here, gotten him into the middle of this. It could be that this situation with a drunk driver made him think of the accident that killed his wife. It could be that he feels he is getting more attached to Karen and her kids than he wants to. No matter what it is, it's obvious tonight has triggered something in him. And she's responsible.

"Robbie?" she tried as she walked over to him.

"Idiot kid," he said.

"I know. He'll be fine walking home, by the way, in case you are worried."

"I was beginning to regret the way I went off on him."

"You see too much of this. It wasn't fair to ask you to come over. Really, I'm..."

He turned then and took her arm. "If I'm not of any use to you when you need me, Karen. Then I've stopped being human, I figure."

"I feel horrible, Robbie."

"Because I'm a mess?" he said with frustration in his voice. "You didn't do this to me. I've done it myself."

She wanted to touch him. To wrap him up and run her hands over him. She remembered the easy way she had fallen into his arms and had him hold her when he had first arrived.

In a different world, she could see herself admitting to him that she wanted him to stay the night. Whether for the sex or the company or the comfort, she didn't even know. But the world she lived in was so horribly complicated. It involved their overlapping jobs. It involved her kids. One of whom needed a talking to tonight.

Besides, the man in question didn't seem up to any of her fantasies at the moment.

But she hugged him anyway. Quickly, before it could become awkward, she released him. "You're wonderful," she told him with a small smile. "And I don't just mean tonight. Always, Robbie."

He only shook his head and stepped away. Then, he fished his keys from his pocket by way of ending the scene.

Half way to his car he turned back to her with something that looked like a second thought. "Karen? Thanks. For the things you say."

"Of course," she told him. But the thought that intruded was, _I can't help it, Robbie. I think I love you._

And she walked for the house.

/


	5. Chapter 5

Karen arrived early when she came by to pick up Lewis for a planned movie night. She wondered if he would see that for what it was: eagerness rather than mere punctuality. He ushered her in while he looked for the last things he needed: his jacket, his keys and wallet.

While he distractedly pulled things from the basket on his kitchen counter, she stood in his living room. Turning in a slow circle to take in the place, she saw his bookcase and the photos there. She found herself gravitating towards the shelves of memories. She was torn between feeling it was prying to look at the pictures and believing that he had them out for a reason. He must be at least a bit approachable about these things, she thought.

"Ah, you've found the altar," he tried to joke as he came up beside her.

"You look like a sweet couple. Happy," Karen surmised as she pointed to a picture of Robbie with Val. She did not dare pick up the frame, she thought that too much of a liberty.

"Like most people, I suspect, we were happy most of the time. I think... I think that is one of the things that made it tough."

"That it was good? _That_ good."

"That I feel guilty that it wasn't _better_," he corrected. "That maybe I was supposed to have been a better man... for her. I never imagined, of course, being here like this without her. I hadn't understood really that grief could be about that even – your own imperfections."

Karen nodded and only touched his sleeve briefly as a meager sort of offering comfort.

She moved to another picture, smiled. Told him how cute the kids were, even ventured to tell him what a charmer he seemed to be in those old photographs. "Oh, Robbie," she said with a gentle shake of her head. "What a smile on you!"

She moved to the end then, a photo of two men in the back. "I've seen him before. That's Inspector Morse?"

"Yeah. Did you ever meet him?"

"I don't think so, but Laura has a picture of him in her house. It's sort of tucked away. I had rather felt I wasn't even supposed to see it. Was she close to him? Did they date or..."

"The two of them had this sort of cantankerous back and forth thing going," Lewis said sounding wistful. "Really, in hind sight, it probably was some sort of dysfunctional foreplay. She liked him, she hated him. He made her insane. But mostly, I think it come down to Laura not being used to losing. Not with anything, really. Arguments. Cases. People. She was something of a wunderkind when she got here. So young and talented. She wasn't in love with Morse. But he intrigued her, you know? And being smart and maybe a bit naïve, I think Laura thought she could fix anything. Even Morse."

"And now she's latched on to this idea of fixing us?" Karen asked, cautiously.

"It's not quite the same," Robbie hedged. "Maybe she's learned to keep her projects smaller. She certainly got her taste of failure when Morse died. It gutted her almost as badly as it did me. It didn't make sense to most people that it would. But they didn't understand. He was like this drowning man to her, and she really thought she could pull him in. That it was her job even to do it."

"He didn't want to be saved?"

Robbie managed half a laugh. "I'm fairly certain Morse was sure he was swimming just fine, not drowning in it. Up until the end.

"When he died," Robbie continued, "that was the first time I got a taste of the regret that goes with grief. I spent so much time with him. But had I really helped him like I should have, I had to wonder? Was it enough that I was just there ... on his terms? It took a while after he died to realize it had been something like a marriage - that partnership. Does that make sense?"

"Because you loved him. Like family. Like something familiar that is that much a part of you."

He sighed. "Oh, God," he said with a sad smile. "Tell me it is a comedy we are going to see?"

She had visited all this emotion on him. Now, she even felt like she was sharing it as she looked at him. She gave him a quick hug, although she wanted to hang on much longer. "Sure. A comedy. Dinner and a pint. You choose."

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

The prospect of the department's staff appreciation dinner a month later seemed so much less daunting to him because he knew he could call her and ask her to come along. She was the designated driver, and so, he had allowed himself two drinks. The dancing was largely sedate, but still something he had chosen to ignore. He had finally removed his jacket as things turned even more casual toward the end.

"Tell me this music is not twice as fast it was 20 years ago," he pretended to complain.

"Tell me you'll dance with me when you hear something you like?" she told him with a smile.

But she knew it would take her invitation, her hands drawing him out to get him on to the floor and out of his shell.

Although maybe what it took was Laura Hobson, magically blundering her way to a sort of truth. The ME had had a drink or two. Or perhaps she was just that firmly liberated from her work persona.

"Robbie!" she implored as she grabbed him. She took his lapels in her two hands.

"Laura, I've been thinking."

"I really wish you wouldn't," she teased.

"Shush. Let me ask you something. I was thinking about Morse the other day, and I was wondering... were you in love with him?

"In love with him? No. Not in a functional, normal, this-might-work sort of way. I had a crush on him. He was one of those unobtainable men I had formed a fascination for, I suppose. Not even the first. And maybe, not the last. But, I hope I am done with that. _**That **_is another story."

"When are you going to take some of your own medicine, doctor? And find someone... obtainable and permanent?" Lewis wanted to know.

"Soon, maybe? Now what about you and Karen?" she deflected.

"Oh, Laura," he groaned. "It's not as easy as you want to..."

"Stop," she interrupted. "Just stop thinking SO much. Stop thinking so hard. Put all that beautiful grey matter of yours to rest. For just one night."

She put her hands to his face now. "Honestly, Robbie. It's simple," she said cryptically. "But you need to stop thinking about it."

Something caught her eye then. Something. Someone. A man in his early 40s wearing a thin bow tie.

"He's here," she said, as her head turned suddenly. "Oooo, I asked him to come, and he came!"

"Have you always been this distractable?" Inspector Lewis wanted to know.

"Never. Only, always, where _men_ are concerned," she told him with a wink. "That's Jonathan. A nephrologist. And I think he might just be the right Mister Obtainable and … well..."

"Go on, Laura," he encouraged.

"Only if you promise me."

"What now?"

"All that thinking... stop. It's not good for you," she said, only half kidding.

/ / / / / / /

Finally, for Lewis there came a point when the music changed to recognizable tunes.

He let Karen lead him just to the edge of the dance floor. Over the course of the night, Karen had danced with a few other blokes that she knew. She even danced a song with Laura, the pair seeming to play the part of the happy college co-eds out on the town. So, he tried not to place too much significance on her wanting to dance with him.

They danced one song. Slower than everyone else out there. And with their hands keeping a reassuring contact that made the pace look purposeful. There was an awkward sense between them at first, but something, her accepting smile, he decided, eased that away.

As they began, his movements were self conscious and halting. He was prepared to offer an excuse. To answer her teasing complaint. But none came. Nor did she work to help or correct his near robotic unease.

Instead, she stepped closer until they touched all along their bodies. Until his body seemed to take on her slow rhythm. Soon he recognized it only as theirs. He wanted to question it. This change. He wanted to resist the feeling of ease. Of fitting. Of finding. Or he might be forced to wonder how he had found what he had hidden from.

What had he found? Peace, he decided. A peace you can feel settle on you. And joy. A feeling of happiness that is more than it should be on rational inspection. He felt radiant inside, he realized. There was a warmth of satisfaction in his chest.

He recognized the feeling. Remembered it, although it had been a long time absent. A shared note of discovery with Morse. His dour boss admitting his sergeant would do as an inspector. Val smiling broadly, leaning over to give him a kiss he had not expected. The sound of children laughing and running in footed pajamas.

It was a feeling that the world was good and full and right, if only in a frozen moment. And Karen was one of those things that made him feel that way. But she was different. Different because she was the only one of those things that had not slipped away.

When he held her and looked at her bright eyes, it was like hearing someone tell you, when you do not believe, that you _**should**_ believe. _**Believe**_, the moment was telling him, in something worth the struggle. In something of divine design.

She was hope. It lived in that moment when he felt her turn her head to rest it along his chest. He knew that he was smiling then, though the action had been unconscious, as he rested his head along side hers.

She was joy.

She tugged on his tie in a gesture that was possessive and intimate. And she smiled at him so warmly. He tightened the hold he had on her as they danced without thinking. Her face turned serious then, but she did not pulled away.

She traced his lips with a finger then, in place of the kiss they both knew she wanted to put there. And then, her hand to the side of his face urged him to lower his head in against hers again.

Before the music even ended, he stopped their dance. He took her hand and squeezed. And she knew to follow him.

"What?" she asked, as they passed through a side door into the kitchen staff's entrance.

"I'm not going to kiss you for the first time on a dance floor. Not in front of all those... "

She leaned in, pushed her arms around his neck. She was full against him now, and he lost the end of his sentence to her kiss. He kissed her back more surely, a hand in her hair.

There were those first tentative kisses that turned reassuring in their light simplicity. These were the kisses they should have shared months before. They leaned in again and again, as if counting each time they had wanted just such a thing. In greeting and in parting. For reassurance and in thanks. For understanding and companionship. For all those nights when goodbye was just goodbye, but it should have been like this.

And then she asked him what was possible _now _with the way she ran her hands under his jacket, with the way she tilted her chin up to him and pressed in closer.

He deepened the kiss. And they showed what they both knew, it was true that this thing between them was much, much more.

It wasn't sexual, not yet, that was plain to her. In this moment it was about working free of the doubt and hurt. And, thankfully, there was the sense of possibility. It was that search for something to believe in. It was the vain desire to possess even when you feel as if your whole life is built on sand.

The way he kissed her, touched her. Mapping her body almost innocently. She knew to him this moment was about losing as much as having.

"Don't," he said. The word seem barely able to leave him. "Don't go," he said, as his hands and mouth moved over her.

And she understood. This was not a man you could reassure lightly. She could not tell him, "_I won't go." Or, "I'd never leave you."_ Because he had heard it all before, and he had still ended up alone.

She held him as tightly as she could, passed her hands over him to reaffirm just how real and solid all of this was. And she told him the only thing she could. "I'm here, Robbie. Right here... with you. _Exactly_ where I want to be." No promises. No hubris that pretended it knew the future. Just the honest truth. "I am right here, and I don't want to be without you."

There was something in her he realized as he looked at her now. Something that he could read that always told him 'yes' before he even knew what he was wondering.

_You are not wire walking without a net, Love. I'm right here. _

He heard the words, but knew she hadn't said a thing out loud.

He couldn't believe the way the answer had come to him while he'd stood there staring at her. He needed to walk across that chasm, didn't he? And Karen was someone who would not lie to him. Would not tell him it was easy. She would not tell him not to be afraid. Because she understood. What she was telling him, with the patient way that she had stood by him all these months, is that he was not out there on his own.

A new man kissed her then.

"I can't believe it took me two months to do that. Why have you bothered with me? Waiting around. I'm an idiot obviously," he whispered as he rocked her in his arms.

"Right now, it feels very, very worth the wait."

/ / / / / /

She carried his jacket as they walked up his driveway. He managed the box full of left over deserts that someone had pressed on them. At his door, she held it all while he looked for his keys. And they joked together to avoid thinking about what they were feeling.

Through the door, and he ignored the light switch. What he felt like doing called for courage, courage he could best muster in the near dark. He took the box and coat from her and slid them down to the far end of the bench that sat by the entrance way.

She pushed his front door closed and turned to him.

He stroked her arms then and quickly kissed her. He eased away then and waited to guage her response. He didn't have long to wait. She pressed forward and kissed him now, hard.

He lost himself to that moment. The need. The give and take. Until he reached some limit. He took a step back so that he could lean against the wall. He could hear his own breathing coming shallow and fast. He felt like little more than a spectator as she tugged his shirt from his trousers. She ran her hands along his skin then and sighed as if that had brought her some relief.

There was the shared knowledge that neither of them was ready for this to lead to the bedroom. There was too much baggage there with them and too many ghosts. But they each pushed the limits of what they might do there by the door.

He bent to kiss her neck and was rewarded with her fingers stroking the back of his head and with the pleased utterances that she whispered at his ear.

It was all too good.

When she leaned in then to press her body along the length of his, she felt how excited he was. His look was intent, but almost apologetic. And briefly then, everything was held in suspension.

"I know we can't," she said in answer to nothing he had said. "But I want to, too."

This was the first time he had found himself like this with a woman since Val had died. Others had offered. Some had kissed him, yes. But this was wildly different. Because he had yet to walk away. Because he could not summon the will to turn away.

Her hand navigated his belt and button then. He felt the zip part, and he wanted to be able to do something. To explain something. To either forget his misgivings and take her to bed, or to have her leave and let him get on with being miserable. But he couldn't move.

A hum of emotion escaped her as she touched him then. She worked him up against the bare skin of her stomach under her camisole.

"Please," she whispered as she stroked him and moved against him.

And he wasn't thinking. Some part of him knew that. Some part of him finally felt so right that it let him enjoy the feel of her until he couldn't help but move in her hand. He let himself seek the sensation he needed.

Intense moments passed then. Rough kisses and demanding hands. Until he whined, in question or in warning. She reassured him, "Yes."

Suddenly, with a groan that rumbled up from his chest, he was emptied and light headed. He took a half step to the bench and slipped into it.

She climbed on top of him, gingerly. Pinned him down with a knee to either side of his thighs, as if afraid he would run because of what they had done. She kissed his forehead gently.

She slid off the blouse she wore and put that off to one side. The camisole she pulled off and used to mop at them both before she dropped the garment to the ground.

He groaned, and she heard the self reproach in it.

"Don't," she warned him. "Just do not tell me you are sorry... even if you are."

Tight lipped and worried looking, he nodded. He seemed lost, but he let her wrap her arms around him and hold him closer.

"You could stay," he finally managed weakly. "I'd make you breakfast. Just so you don't have to go home so late. Not so..."

"I wish I could." And she reassured him that she knew it was not an invitation for a night of sex. "I wouldn't mind sleeping next to you." She pushed at his hair. "I bet you are adorable in the morning. But the kids will not understand if I don't come home. Even if I call and tell them I am having an innocent little sleep over..."

"Of course," he told her feeling stupid. He was that far gone. He had momentarily forgotten there was a world out there with kids and other people's responsibilities. "I don't know what I'm thinking."

"I think you are just being a stand up sort of guy and letting me know that you would not do this with me and then shove me out the door. And I appreciate that, really. Unfortunately, I have to get up and go at some point."

_And how selfish and how confused am I, he wondered, that I don't want you to go, but I'm afraid of what we are doing?_

She would be back out the door soon. That knowledge made him want to take in everything before it was gone. As if he was just realizing what he had in his lap, he reached out with a single finger and traced the lace edge of her bra.

"Tonight," he whispered. And the images tumbled to him. The way she had looked up at him while they danced slowly. The way he saw her tonight. The things he had _**felt**_ as much as noticed. The roundness here. The sweet curves there. The look on her face as she laughed with him.

"It was all different," he finally concluded.

"Was it?" she wondered. "It was all the same for me. Same man I've enjoyed being with all these months."

He nodded, but she didn't think he really understood.

"'She's with me,' I kept thinking tonight. And that made me really ...happy," he told her, haltingly.

She leaned in slowly to kiss him then. And he felt the raw power in it. He felt how everything else, the world outside his door, seemed to get blotted out until there was nothing but the warmth of her, the weight of her, the taste of her... and more importantly, the way she made him feel.

She sighed and involuntarily wiggled a bit in his lap as his hand snuck into her bra. He liked the sound she made... in part because it was one that he had provoked.

"What are you starting, Robbie?" she asked as he opened her bra.

"Not starting," he promised. "Finishing. I want to hear you, to know you... want me."

She gasped as he leaned in to kiss her chest.

And moaned, as she felt his hand ease into the space beyond the now-open zipper on her low, black trousers.

/


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N: The last installment of my Lewis story. Hope you enjoyed it all! Thanks so much for reading this far!**_

* * *

Karen knew it was a possibility. That what should have been a beginning became the beginning of the end.

It didn't take Laura long to guess that something was wrong. The Monday after the police function she asked Karen how things had gone, and the woman had seemed vaguely hopeful... and happy. But a week on from that, her assistant's mood had turned black.

It was too easy to guess that Lewis had gotten cold feet about the relationship.

After two more weeks of this behavior from both Karen and Robbie, Laura decided to interrogate the pair, separately.

She had no doubt it was Lewis who was responsible for the bad turn things had taken between them. And he was the one of the pair that was her long time friend.

He looked agitated to see her at his door.

"I didn't call. I know. But I figured you might not let me in if I did," Laura explained.

"As bad as all that?" he asked bitterly.

"You tell me. Karen won't talk about it..."

"Why should she, Laura? Have you thought this out for just a moment and realized that maybe my life and hers have absolutely nothing to do with you?" he accused, sounding hurt.

That stung the pathologist, he could see. And there were some tense moments while the muscles jumped in her clenched jaw. She plainly weighed whether she would press on or just turn and go.

"I'm not terribly good at giving up on people, if that is what you are asking me to do," she finally told him.

He walked away from her for his kitchen, and she followed him into his apartment. His back was to her now and he leaned heavily on his arms at the counter.

"It didn't work out. That's all," he told her.

"You took her to bed? Or you just wanted to?" Laura guessed. "And somehow you think this makes you a horrible person. Disloyal. Being happy felt like something you didn't deserve?"

"Find something else to dissect. And stop pretending to understand my life!"

"I couldn't understand this quagmire you call a life if I had all the time in the world," Dr. Hobson shot back.

Lewis let out a heavy sigh, but refused to be drawn out.

Laura walked cautiously up beside him and spoke more gently now, "DS Frank from Regional was in the other day, and he wanted to know if Karen was really seeing you or if she might go out with him."

"Are you trying to bait me?" he wanted to know.

"She accepted. So, she's made a date with someone else," Laura said, shaking her head sadly. "Although, I don't know why, because it is _**clear**_ she's not over you. And what do you feel when I tell you this, Robbie? Does this make you angry? Are you happy for her? Do you feel anything? Or are you still that numb?"

"You want to know how far gone I am?" he demanded as he turned to face her.

"Yes."

He fumed quietly and then started to pace.

"I don't like it," he spat suddenly. "I don't know that I'll do anything about it. But ..."

"I think worse would be that this didn't even hurt you at all. That you didn't even care. God, figure this out, Robbie," she told him with a pitying look. "Please. Soon."

And she walked out.

/

It was two days later, and he was feeling impulsive. It was a sign, he knew, that he was most certainly undone. But he couldn't think what to do about it, but to give in.

Hathaway drove them to the hospital parking garage on Lewis' order, the older man unable to give a reason. There were no results they were waiting. The inspector had merely looked at his watch, and seeing that they had a full hour before they were expected at the court building, he had ordered the detour. Lewis traversed the car park's aisles on foot then till he found her car, wanting to confirm she was in the building. He called her from his cell phone.

"Robbie," she whispered when she heard his voice.

"I feel like a damn fool, Karen, but I'm out here in the car park, and I'm wondering if I can come in and talk to you."

She met him in the same conference room they had spoken in months earlier. The poignancy there not lost on either of them. They had come full circle back to this place.

"How have you been?" he ventured.

"Fine," she answered sounding anything but. "Just adjusting, learning that time does not stand still. Especially not with the kids."

"How are the kids?"

She paused then, and he knew there must be something, not just the unease that had developed between them.

"Tim has decided to go to university in Edinburgh. I hadn't thought he'd go that far away, I guess." She sighed. "That boy needed me 24 hours a day when I brought him home from the hospital, and he needs me less than 24 minutes a day now. And with him moving out, well... a sort of light has gone on for me, I suppose."

"Tell me what it is," he said quietly.

"I've decided I will not sit still and watch my life leave me," she told him. "As much as it pains me to admit, Laura was right. I do need something else in my life. _**Tim**_ needs me to have something else, so I do not drive up there with Lizzie and move in next to him."

Confused, he reached for her, but she backed away.

"What do _**you**_ want out of life, Robert? This bit you have left. I'm not Laura. I won't tell you that any choice is wrong. But make it a choice. Not something you fall into. Not what remains after you've run away from the rest. Because not making a choice, is a very poor choice."

"Like with Hamlet," he said weakly.

"What?"

"Morse." He pulled in air with effort and looked up to the ceiling for strength. "He told me, Hamlet couldn't make a decision and that in itself was the choice. The choice that damns you."

"God, I've heard so much about Morse... and his choices. If working and then collapsing at home each night into some sort of bitter worship of the past is what you want, then do it. Choose it. But is that really what you want?"

He tried to think, but he couldn't. He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes then and ducked his head. He seemed too like the slow, single-minded cyclops as he stood there, weaving and wounded.

"I'm scared, too, Robbie," she offered him.

He shook his head, plainly lost as to what to think or what to do. "Karen," he tried weakly.

"I've been scared to tell you. I made my choice. I made it ages ago..."

"I don't understand."

She insinuated herself into her arms, and his stiff posture slackened some. Karen kissed him hard, a hand tightening in his shirt. And then just as quickly, she let go.

"I love you," she said as she faded back. "Do you understand?"

And she then became the second woman to walk out on him in less than a week.

In a daze, he navigated his way outside. The world seemed to spin around him. It was a sea of buildings, cars, and noise that he suddenly had no prayer of deciphering. Across the way, he saw Hathaway. He saw the status quo waiting for him to open the car door and slide in.

His sergeant looked at him expectantly...

... and Lewis turned and walked back into the hospital.

/


End file.
